Reversal of Hearts
by CathryForever
Summary: What if Henry had a dream where everything was reversed? Where the women were in power, not the men, and Catherine had all the privileges that he normally enjoyed. How would such a dream affect him? This is just something I had fun writing, because I always wished Catherine could have her cake and eat it too - jealous Henry is the cherry on top! ;)
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Henry stirred, the light in the room alerting his groggy senses that it was time to rise for the day. A smooth hand ran sleepily up his arm, and he turned to smile at the dark-haired mistress who had occupied his life and his bed for so many years. Much as he enjoyed her, he was already looking forward to the evening he had planned with Kenna, his younger mistress. He smiled at his good fortune – what it was to be King! He had the country and the nobles under his control, and heirs enough to make the rulers of other countries envious. At one time, it had been thought that there might be no heirs for the King and Queen of France, but there had been no need for concern after all. The strain of the years waiting for children had cost him his marriage, but at least he had Diane and Kenna, and well, any woman he damn well chose to have. He did not want for anything. He pushed away a hint of bitter heartache that welled up at that thought, and turned the covers back, climbing out of bed.

Pulling on his robe, he tied it securely around his middle just in time for the door to open and his wife to stroll in. He looked at her questioningly, and she cast a look of disgust at the woman in his bed, before pulling herself up to full height (which was in fact, less than she made it appear), and addressing him with false cheerfulness.

"Ah, Henry. You're up."

He returned the sentiment. "As you see, Catherine. To what do I owe the pleasure of this early visit?"

"What I have to say cannot be said in front of _her_." She gestured sourly with her hand towards Diane, who was pulling herself into a sitting position in bed, clutching the sheets to her chest. Henry followed his wife's gaze, and then turned back to her.

"Diane and I do not have any secrets. There is no need for her to leave."

"I thought she was in Paris. I wouldn't have _dreamed_ of disturbing the two of you if I had thought she was here." Her voice was laced with bitterness and sarcasm. Henry could hear the hurt in her tone, but to him, it translated as resentfulness and jealousy. He sighed with exasperation.

"Can this not wait, Catherine? This is not the way I had planned to start my day."

She scoffed. "So I see!"

In the uncomfortable silence, Diane reached for her robe and pulled it on. Approaching Henry, she paused at his side, laying her hand on his arm sensually. "It's alright, Henry," she purred. "I'll give you some space to talk to Catherine." She kissed his cheek and, giving Catherine a side-glance with a slight smile, she crossed the room to pick up her dress and shoes, and disappeared into the adjoining wash room, closing the door behind her.

Henry turned his attention back to Catherine.

"Now, what is so important?"

Catherine shifted uncomfortably, clasping her hands before her, and looking momentarily as though she wasn't sure how to begin.

"I wanted to talk to you before your meeting this morning. I wanted…. to try to help you see that aggressively pursuing England is not the answer at this time."

An expression of annoyance crossed Henry's face. "And you are suddenly an advisor to the King now, are you? Suddenly you know better than my most trusted, most experienced men?" He turned abruptly and strode with irritation to the table, helping himself to some grapes from the fruit bowl with his back to his Queen.

"I've seen as much as they have over the years, perhaps more!" Catherine's voice rose slightly. "And unlike some of your advisors, I have France's best interests at heart."

"Oh, is that so?!" Henry turned on his heel, sarcasm dripping from his words, before letting out a bitter huff. "I'm sure your motives are as they always were – self-preservation. What _really_ serves your purpose in persuading me to release my grip on England, hmm?"

Catherine took a step towards him, her eyes betraying concern now – almost fear, Henry thought as he watched her. She spoke again in a quieter, less certain voice.

"The Valois is France's best interest. My goal is to protect my children and their legacy. I have heard…" She faltered, taking another step closer to Henry. "I have heard that you may be considering Sebastian as the next King of France, instead of Francis, if Mary will not marry him."

Henry looked down at the tiled floor, his hands clasped behind his back, and his shoulders straight.

"Yes," he replied, "I have considered it."

Catherine closed the gap between them quickly, her tension evident. "All to take hold of England?! Don't you see that there's more at stake than just Francis?! Charles, Henri, Hercule – the _rightful_ line of succession would be usurped, and their lives put at risk, all for _England_!" She grasped his sleeve, her temper rising. "And I'm sure that _parasite_ Diane would be only too glad to rid French Court of me and take my place as Queen!"

Henry shook off her hand. "Enough!" She stepped back, silent for a moment. "This is not your decision to make, Catherine."

"I should be allowed a say in my sons' futures! What you're considering is an injustice! I have every right as their mother and as Queen of France - "

"It is not your place, and you know it. _I_ am King. _I_ make the decisions, whether they are to your liking or not." Seeing her chin lifted in angry defiance, he added, "And don't think I am not aware of your way of dealing with things that are beyond your control." Catherine turned away with a huff, but Henry grasped her by the wrist and held her still. Her eyes rose slowly from his hand on her arm, to meet his eyes, unsure of what she might see in them.

"I will not allow it, Catherine. Do you hear me? If you go against my wishes in this case, I will have you executed. I am King, I will find a reason if I have to. Your place is as Queen _Consort_ , not ruler of France."

Tears of anger and hurt came to her eyes as she stared him down silently, her chin set and her mouth a tight line of frustration. Henry felt a pang of regret for his fierce words as he saw her colour rise, and her eyes shining with emotion. He had not expected that. Not wanting to show her the tenderness she was stirring inside him, he dropped her wrist and looked away, straightening his shoulders.

He heard her take a breath and let it out in the silence, before speaking to him again, her voice controlled and steady.

"Always so quick to threaten to take my life. You know, Henry, if you use a blade too often, it becomes blunt and doesn't cut like you intend it to."

Though she was hurting terribly inside, Catherine stood bold and elegant, her shoulders back and her chin lifted, trying to make sure that Henry should have no idea of her true feelings. It was working, as it always did. He was convinced that she was impervious to anything that he threw her way in his anger. She never showed any hint of feeling, and he believed the rumours about her, that she was cold and black-hearted, incapable of love. The hurt in his eyes revealed itself as anger as he turned to face her again.

"If you had ever shown me a hint of affection, I might not be so inclined to do away with you!"

Catherine huffed indignantly, "Is your memory really so poor?! How convenient for you to remember only the years where you've put me aside, and not those first years when we loved each other!"

Henry sighed, tired of this conversation. "We've been over this before, Catherine. It's a pointless discussion. Whatever happiness we had in those years has been irrevocably damaged by your decision to put everything in your life ahead of me, ahead of us."

His wife, her anger rising, moved quickly to stand in front of him. "Can you not for _once_ put aside your childish pride, and see the situation as it really is?! You only look at your own feelings! It's all so one-sided!" She clenched her fists in frustration. "No matter how many times I explain it to you, you simply will not consider - "

Catherine broke off and turned away, walking to the window. Henry's curious eyes followed her, watching her as she stood bathed in the morning light, still and thoughtful now as she looked out over the castle grounds, her fire apparently out.

"Consider what?"

She didn't move, but spoke quietly after a pause. "My feelings, Henry."

He scoffed slightly. "Do you have any?"

The look she gave him over her shoulder was withering. He enjoyed the rise he got out of her by pushing her, but something in him gnawed anxiously, as though he was hurting her and he didn't want to. Even though she didn't seem hurt, he couldn't shake the feeling, and tried again in a more reasonable tone.

"What feelings are you speaking of, Catherine?"

She seemed to shake herself suddenly. "What does it matter." It was a flat statement, not a question, muttered almost to herself rather than to Henry.

She turned, her shoulders squared and her quiet thoughtfulness gone, as she approached him with confidence once more. "You hardly have time to talk to your wife right now, with all the pressures of your day upon you." She glanced at the closed door to the wash room with a tight smile. "Diane will be finished and ready to join you in just a moment. Or will she move along and allow Kenna her turn at occupying the King?"

Henry's jaw tightened. Before he could respond, she continued, her sarcasm evident through her tone. "What a thing it is to be King of France! What privileges are afforded you!" She gave a bitter laugh, casting her gaze down at her hands as she folded her fingers together. "If only _I_ could enjoy the same favour! Lovers at my beck and call, ready and willing to satisfy my every need. Power to just take the life of anyone who happens to annoy me - "

"ENOUGH!" Henry's angry voice rang off the stone walls of his chambers. The audacity of this woman! Whether she annoyed him or not, whether he chose to share his body with her or not, he could not stand to think of her in the arms of another, when she belonged to HIM. It made his blood boil, and more so that she was enjoying teasing him with it.

"I will NOT have you speak that way! You know perfectly well that a Queen cannot take a lover, and that such a treasonous act would mean your execution. And yet you taunt me on the subject?!"

Catherine sighed. "Yes, you've made that abundantly clear." She reached out, placing her hand on her husband's shoulder and looking into his eyes. "Henry… do you even remember the last time we were intimate? How long has it been?"

He looked down abruptly. "It's not as though there is any further need for heirs, Catherine."

"So my use is over? I'm to be tossed on the pile now, irrelevant, while you play with other toys? Really, Henry, is that how you would treat your wife and Queen?!"

In the strained silence as the King and Queen faced each other down, the door to the adjoining room opened, and Diane, dressed for the day, slunk across the room to Henry's side.

"It's time for you to leave, Catherine." Henry's voice was dangerously low and soft, as Diane curled her hand around his forearm. "I have duties to attend to, as I'm sure you do too."

Holding his gaze with a fiery expression for a moment, Catherine turned and swept out of the room without another word. She knew when she was being dismissed and she hated it. Complying was the safest option, but she was not done with him yet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Henry had passed the day tolerably well, considering the poor start with his argument with Catherine that morning. Diane had been only too willing to distract him from his agitation, and the rest of the morning had passed easily with matters of state that were not too tedious to bear. He had enjoyed an excellent lunch and the opportunity to catch the eye of a young lady who he hadn't seen before at court. She was with a party of nobles visiting one of his children, he couldn't remember which. It stoked his fire to command the attention of a pretty woman and see how flattered and eager she looked in response to his interest. Henry leaned back in his chair at the desk in the map room, where he was meeting with some of his advisors, and smiled to himself at the memory. He would have to seek her out later. Or perhaps tomorrow, since his time was definitely filled for tonight.

"Your Majesty?"

The voice of the Lord sitting across the desk from him broke through his wandering thoughts, pulling him back to focus again. He sat up straight, abruptly.

"I'm sorry Lord Beauchamp, what were you saying?"

"Simply that if we are to hope to gain England, we must first reclaim Calais."

"Yes indeed!" Henry stood and gestured to the wooden figures scattered in groups upon the map before him. "I had that in mind already." The half dozen men in the room drew nearer to the desk, leaning forward with interest, ready to see the plans their King and commander had in mind for them. "If we divide our army into two groups - "

Whatever Henry had begun to say was interrupted by the echoing clatter of the large wooden doors as they opened to admit the Queen to the room. Henry gave a frustrated sigh, his brow creasing with irritation.

"What is it, Catherine? You are interrupting a very important meeting." He felt that he knew exactly why she had come, and he was not in the mood to deal with her input again, especially in front of his advisors.

Catherine smiled benevolently around the room at the small gathering.

"Gentlemen, I do apologise for the disturbance, but it has come to my attention that you are planning an attack on England." In the silence that followed, her smile tightened somewhat before she spoke again, glancing briefly at the map before them and taking in the figures laid out strategically. "Or perhaps, Calais first… I have spoken to Henry about my concerns over the matter, and thought it would be best to bring them to your attention too." Catherine averted her eyes from her husband's warning glare as she addressed the men. One or two of them glanced uneasily at their King, but his lack of response implied that he might be tolerating her interruption, so she pressed on.

"I would remind you, gentlemen, that France is having to manage without a large number of her soldiers, having sent them to protect Scotland." Her tone implied exactly how annoyed she was by this fact. "And it would surely not be a wise course of action to deploy most of the remaining men for an unnecessary war, at such a time as this."

"Catherine." Henry's voice was tight, and his warning clear, but his wife continued.

"These things must be taken into consideration. A _desire_ to start a war is not at all the same thing as war being thrust upon us by our circumstances. War is costly, and we cannot - "

" _Catherine!"_

This time she stopped, the echo of his angry bark ringing in the silence.

"Your presence here is unnecessary, Catherine. These men are perfectly able to take France's best interests into consideration without the strong opinions of a woman on the matter."

" _These men_ , Henry, will have as much say on the subject as any well-trained dogs following their master! Which of them would dare object to a plan that their King staunchly insists on carrying out?!" She looked at them, her anger evident to all in the room, before addressing them as a group. "Who among you would defy your King, if he tells you he wants this, hmm?!"

Silence.

Catherine turned to her husband, one eyebrow raised.

" _Advisors_ to the King?!" she scoffed with sarcasm. Henry raised himself slowly to his full height, and walked around the desk, the nobles parting to make way for him as he did so. Coming to stand in front of his wife, his dark eyes glared down at her. She stood her ground, unflinching, jaw squared as she tipped her head back to look him in the eye. Before Henry had chance to say a word, the door opened, and a guard held it back to admit a messenger.

"I'm sorry for the interruption, your Majesty, but I have been sent to tell you that the visiting party from Nantes will be arriving earlier than expected this evening, and there is still no word on which chambers they will be occupying while they are here."

The King relaxed slightly, turning to face the messenger, before gesturing dismissively at his wife with his hand.

"My wife will deal with this."

Catherine gave a huff of indignation. "But Henry - "

The King turned to face her, holding up his hand up to stop her in her tracks.

"This seems like a matter of housekeeping, Catherine, which is your domain, is it not? Hurry along now." He shooed her gently, and tried not to show his amusement at the angry flush covering her face. His wife's eyes locked with his in a furious glare, holding the moment meaningfully for a few seconds before turning and sweeping out of the room, with the nervous messenger in her wake.

Henry looked down at the ornate tiled floor as the doors closed once more, and sighed, shaking his head. He knew he should not push his wife to anger like this, especially when her anger was legendary, but she infuriated him so! Sometimes he just could not help himself. He did not like to be humiliated in front of his advisors by his strong-willed wife, and it soothed his irritation to put her in her place.

/-/-/-/-/-/

Henry tried his best to distract himself with the usual routine throughout the rest of the day, but he really couldn't put his wife out of his mind. He knew that Catherine wouldn't let this go so easily, and it made him feel tired and tense, to always be at odds with her. Especially when she saw nothing as an obstacle she couldn't get around in some way. He ate with two of his friends before retiring for the evening, and only then did his spirits recover somewhat, as he remembered that Kenna would be paying him a visit very soon.

He undressed in his chambers and put on his most luxurious robe. He had dismissed the servants already, but he busied himself lighting a few candles around his bedchamber, before her knock came to his door. He took a deep breath and exhaled all his tension, the anticipation of pleasure and a good time filling his mind instead. He was glad to be able to have these lovely distractions whenever he needed to – and he did have needs.

He let her in eagerly, and soon Kenna's lithe form and attentive hands soothed away all the stresses of the day. It would have been perfect, had the door not opened just as things were beginning to get hot and heavy in his bed, and his wife had walked into the room for the second time that day. Kenna gasped – he knew she was somewhat afraid of his fiery Queen, probably with good reason – and Henry flopped his forehead onto her shoulder, letting out a frustrated groan.

"Oh, I'm sorry," came the sarcastic tone of Catherine's rich melodic voice. "Am I disturbing you?"

Henry raised his head, then jerked his body into a sitting position under the sheets. Kenna rolled away from him, clutching the sheets around her shoulders and avoiding looking down the room to where Catherine stood.

"Yes, Catherine, yes. You are disturbing me. Again. This is the second time you have disturbed me in my own chambers today!"

She held his eyes with a long hard stare, before answering him. "Yes," she said accusingly, "It is the second time. And not even the same woman." She huffed a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "I suppose I should be thankful that they're keeping you busy…"

"What do you want, Catherine? I've had a stressful day, and you have played a large part in that. I would rather you leave now, and we discuss any pressing matters tomorrow."

Her eyes widened, and he couldn't tell if it was in anger or surprise. She seemed lost for words for a moment.

" _You_ have had a stressful day? _You_ have?! And _I_ am the source of your stress?!" She broke off, blinking and shaking her head incredulously. "And you want some space with your plaything?"

"Yes, I want some space from you. You have been interfering in my business all day long, Catherine, and I've had enough of it. I've had enough of _you_." He flicked his hand towards her in a dismissive way, as though giving a servant their leave. She took a step backwards, hesitating as though wanting to say something else, although her fire and confidence was clearly gone. She stepped back again, towards the door, holding his gaze. Her eyes showed him a mixture of defiance and hurt, but she didn't speak. Then she turned and left the room.

Henry exhaled heavily, letting his shoulders slump forwards. He heard the sheets rustle, and Kenna sat up next to him, her hand smoothing over his rounded shoulders in the silence.

"Do you want me to go, too?" she spoke hesitantly. Henry turned to her.

"No," he reassured her, reaching out to brush her cheek with the back of his fingers. " _You_ are just what I need." And smiling, he leaned in to kiss her.

It was only later, after Kenna had gone, that Henry lay in his bed staring up at the painted ceiling. He couldn't make out the details of the images in the dark, but he wasn't really looking at them anyway. He had enjoyed the evening after Catherine had left, but he was unsettled now, and could not sleep. It bothered him that she didn't appear to care. Sometimes he could discern hurt in her expression, but it was all too often masked by anger or contempt. She mocked him in front of his mistresses – how that angered him! – as though she hardly cared at all that he was with them, and while she was busy not caring, she was determined to humiliate him in their presence as well.

Turning bitterly onto his side, he closed his eyes and tried to banish all thoughts of his wife from his mind. He focused instead on things that made him feel confident. His power as King, the fact that he could do whatever he wanted – within reason. His ability to put his wife in her place at will… And there she was again, back in his thoughts. Henry rolled over in frustration. Still, he thought, he was grateful for small mercies. Imagine if he didn't have such power to silence Catherine when she was getting out of hand? He would have preferred an amiable relationship with his wife, but since it wasn't that way, at least he could find other ways to meet his own needs, and keep her at a distance while he did so. He had loved her once, in fact, truth be told, he still did deep down. They rarely came together intimately anymore. Henry was sure she really didn't have much interest in any case, but when they had done so, there was fire enough between them. They could certainly manage to be on excellent terms between the sheets. If only Catherine wasn't so determined to have authority and power in so many ways. He knew that she was usually just motivated by the wellbeing of their children, but sometimes it seemed to Henry as though it was almost as if she would prefer to be the one ruling France instead of him.

Chuckling lightly at the audacity of such a thought, Henry relaxed enough to fall into a deep sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Henry woke to the sound of servants bustling in his chambers. He buried his face in his pillow, reluctant to start the day. He must have been awake until late last night and he didn't feel rested enough yet, but there were duties to attend to, and plans to be finalised. He could hear the gentle clink of plates as his breakfast was served, and he rolled over, pausing to frown at the ceiling as it came into view. It was painted, but not as he remembered it. Odd.

Blinking sleepily, he sat up.

All the air left his lungs in a rush. He glanced anxiously at the servant, who didn't appear to notice his plight.

"Good morning, your Majesty," she said, with a small respectful smile as she dipped into a curtsey.

Henry didn't respond, and she turned back to the side table and busied herself arranging his breakfast. He stared around him. These were not his chambers! But… how? The heady confusion made him feel dizzy – what could have happened? He had definitely fallen asleep in his own chambers and, as he looked around desperately for clues, he could see that all his belongings were here, as though they always had been. Was he going mad?!

The servant placed a tray of breakfast at his bedside table. "Shall I send for someone to ready your clothes, your Grace?"

Henry found his voice. "No – uh, no. I can dress myself today," he stammered. The girl curtsied, and went to leave the room, but as she reached the door, Henry called out to her. "Wait!" She turned, expectantly.

"Would you summon Lady Diane to my chambers?" He felt he would like to ground himself with familiar and soothing company. Diane would take one look at the room and know it wasn't right – she knew his chambers as well as he did. Besides, he didn't feel like asking a servant girl about the confusion.

"Lady Diane…" The servant seemed confused about his request. "Do you know where I might find her, your Majesty?"

Henry looked up at the girl in astonishment. "What? Diane de Poitiers – who else would I be asking for, for goodness' sakes?! You'll find her in her chambers!" Honestly, the servants in this place! But perhaps she was new? He didn't recognise her.

"I'm sorry, your Majesty." The servant looked anxious. "I will find out right away." And she left the room in a hurry.

Trying to shake off his irritation, Henry climbed out of bed and looked for his robe. He found it hanging on the far corner of his bed and retrieved it. That's when he noticed the panelling on the wall near the fireplace. He was very familiar with it, because he had used it many a time years ago. In happier years, he and Catherine would sneak away from responsibility and escape for picnics or bathing at the lake in the woods. They always used the secret passages to leave the castle on occasions like this, and he couldn't count the number of times they had started out from her chambers, where there was a hidden opening in the panelling by the fireplace. _This_ fireplace. These were Catherine's chambers. He looked around him. Yes, he was sure of it. Catherine's chambers, but decorated as his own. He furrowed his brow, perplexed. But why on earth….? And if it were true, then where was Catherine?

He wandered back to the bed, sinking down onto it in disbelief, unable to grasp the situation. He cast a glance at his breakfast. He really didn't have an appetite, but he took the hot cup of tea and hoped that it would help clear his mind. Perhaps he wasn't quite awake properly? As he sipped his tea, there was a knock at the door, and the servant girl entered again, looking flushed and uneasy.

"I'm – I'm sorry, your Majesty, but nobody knows of a Lady Diane de Poitiers or her whereabouts. Would you like me to send enquiries to the surrounding villages?"

Henry felt as though he was drowning in the storm of confusion and panic. It wasn't just his chambers, but now Diane didn't exist?! He tried to keep his breathing calm and give an appearance of nonchalance.

"No, it's of no great importance." He waved his hand airily, brushing the matter aside, before asking tentatively, "Where is my wife this morning?"

"Queen Catherine is taking breakfast in her chambers," replied the servant, clearly relieved to be asked a question that she was able to answer to Henry's satisfaction.

"Her chambers?"

"Yes, your Majesty."

Of course, Henry realised, he couldn't ask the girl where his own wife's chambers were. That would arouse suspicion, and the whole castle would be talking about his madness before the day was out. He would have to play along and find out later. At least Catherine was here, and he could have her come to him when she was ready.

He dismissed the servant and dressed himself for the day. He was just contemplating when to send for Catherine when a guard entered his chambers, standing stiffly by the door.

"The Queen has sent for you, your Grace."

Henry's eyes widened. "What?!"

The guard cleared his throat. "The Queen requests your presence in the Throne Room immediately."

"She _what_?" He gaped at the guard. The man just looked at him, awaiting his response, and the silence hung awkwardly. Henry closed his mouth and tugged at his embroidered doublet uneasily. "Yes, well…." he managed to utter, uncomfortably, and he held his head high as he walked past the guard.

Henry walked numbly down the corridor towards the Throne Room. He did not know what to make of this day so far. Had he been drinking last night? He didn't think so… But nothing made sense this morning! And now Catherine summoning him to the Throne Room as though she was in authority over him?! It was unthinkable.

He rounded the corner and strode as confidently as he felt able, into the Throne Room. He stopped and stared. There sat Catherine, regal and confident as ever, on HIS throne! The smaller throne beside her was vacant. The room was filled with women too, the few men present loitering at the edges of the great hall instead of in the centre. He resisted the urge to rub his eyes hard with his knuckles. Surely this wasn't right? What on earth was going on?!

Catherine looked up as he entered, and he threw her a questioning look, hoping that she would have some sort of bizarre explanation for the set up that he'd walked in upon. But she simply smiled and called out, "Ah, there you are my dear. Come!" and she gestured with an open hand to the smaller of the two thrones. So, he was expected to sit in the Queen's throne?! For a moment, he hesitated, undecided on whether to move. Would he be humiliated for submitting to his wife in front of all these people? It certainly felt that way. Glancing uncomfortably around the room, though, he noticed an innocent look of expectation on all the faces around him, and Catherine herself seemed to quite cheerfully expect his obedience. Everyone appeared to think it perfectly normal that his wife was sitting upon the King's throne, and in his presence, no less. Who were all these women, in any case? He didn't recognise most of them, though some he had met because they were the wives of his advisors, and some of the better-known Lords of the region.

He felt the eyes of the ladies in the room following him as he walked through the gathering to the dais. He hesitated as he stood before the two thrones, looking from one to the other, and then glanced at Catherine. She smiled at him, but began to look uneasy as she waited for him to move. Stepping up close to her, he bent to speak in her ear.

"Is this some sort of game?"

"What are you talking about, Henry?" Catherine looked puzzled by his question.

"My throne. Why are you sitting on it? What's going on here?" He was not in the mood to play games, and he didn't feel like drawing attention with a full-on confrontation. But this madness had to stop, now.

Catherine twisted in her seat, pulling back from her husband a little as she looked into his face properly. Henry's anxiety grew as he saw the expression on her face. She looked genuinely taken-aback – shocked, even, by his words. Her eyes had a wary look that made him question his own sanity. Clearly, she felt he was suggesting something odd, and he began to sweat with the strangeness of the whole situation.

"Henry…" she paused thoughtfully, surveying him. "I am not in the mood for your power games today - if that's what this is?" she added hesitantly. She glanced beyond him to the gathered people in the room, who were beginning to murmur and whisper. "Sit down!" she hissed, "The people are starting to notice your odd behaviour."

Blinking in confusion, Henry stepped backwards, following her gaze to the crowd, who did indeed look unsettled. He straightened, giving the room a smile of false confidence, and forced his legs to walk him to Catherine's throne, where he sat, disorientated, and as wooden as the seat beneath him.

He sat while the people – or rather, the ladies – brought their queries and their complaints before the Royal couple, and Catherine answered each one of them with great authority, and wisdom, he noted. He would have been impressed, if everything hadn't been so strange. The only man who had come forward had been sent to do so by his wife, who was out of town on business! Henry's head began to ache.

As the last of the people left the hall, Catherine turned to Henry, her brow furrowed with concern.

"You didn't feel like giving your opinion today?"

"I – I suppose my mind was elsewhere," he stammered.

"Perhaps you have been working too hard, my dear?" His wife sat back in her – HIS – throne. "I think it would be good for Elizabeth to sit in on these sessions, don't you? You needn't come to each of them if Elizabeth takes your place on occasion."

" _Elizabeth?!_ " His hand slapped loosely against his knee as it fell from his forehead, which he had suddenly lifted from where it had been resting against his palm. He stared at his wife. "What has she to do with it?! What about Francis?"

Catherine looked at him with wide eyes, apparently lost for words for a moment, before finding her tongue again.

"What _about_ Francis?" she questioned him back, confused. "He'll be leaving for Scotland in a fortnight. Now that he's Mary's consort he has no reason to sit and learn about French politics, Henry, really!" She gave a little snort of laughter, but broke off abruptly when she saw the look of horror on Henry's face. "What is it?" she asked him, her tone concerned.

Henry rubbed his face for a moment before he answered her. "It's just – it's the strangest thing. It looks for all the world as though _you_ rule France…" he looked up at her apprehensively, "…and I don't."

Catherine pinned him with a straight look. "I do," she stated. "And you don't. Why is this confusing to you? Are you unwell?!"

"And Elizabeth, I presume, is being groomed to rule after…" Henry tapered off, his voice a little shaky.

"After I die," Catherine finished for him. "Yes, of course. Along with Claude and Margot…" she narrowed her eyes as she squinted at him suspiciously. "Why are you acting as though this is news to you? What's going on, Henry?"

"Nothing," he lied, springing to his feet. "I had a bad – a _very_ bad night's sleep last night, and I – I just don't feel like myself today, that's all. I think I will take a rest."

He hurried out of the Throne Room before Catherine could say another word, knocking into a table bearing a floral display on his way, in his anxious haste to escape. Instead of going to his chambers – hell, they weren't even his chambers! – he headed out of the nearest archway to the gardens, hoping that some fresh air and solitude would ease his nerves and give him space to make some sense of all this.

Catherine, ruling France, sitting on his throne? The whole of French Court nodding and smiling as though it was the usual thing. His firstborn son, married off to the Queen of Scotland as her consort?! His daughters groomed to rule instead of his sons?! What in the world?! He spotted Elizabeth across the lawns, two young men trailing in her wake, and he sighed, shaking his head. He hadn't seen her in many months, since she had been married to the King of Spain and departed immediately after her wedding. He was happy to see her again, but confused as hell, because _here_ , wherever here was, she clearly hadn't married the Spanish King. It occurred to him that she must be beleaguered by young nobles hoping to claim her hand, if she was heir to the throne of France. Not that a mere nobleman would do as the future consort of the ruler of France – his eldest daughter would need a _far_ more appropriate suitor. He stopped walking and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes for a moment. What on earth was the matter with him, falling into this madness and thinking about suitors for his _daughter_ who would one day _rule France_?! He hoped it was a dream; a bad dream that would disappear if only he could wake up. Perhaps he should go to bed, then he might speed his return to normality?

He turned and retraced his steps across the lawn, back through the archway and into the castle corridor. He rounded the corner ahead of him, and froze in his tracks at the sight before him.

There stood Catherine, who had obviously been on her way out of the Throne Room a few minutes previously, now in the company of the Duke of Guise – the Uncle of Mary, Queen of Scots. They were talking together, standing by the arched window at the far end of the corridor. Catherine looked beautiful, he thought to himself, standing there bathed in the light from the window. The Duke was obviously flirting with Catherine, leaning like a pompous idiot with his hand against the wall above Catherine's head. The stab of jealousy that Henry felt was nothing compared to the fury that coursed through him at the man's audacity to seek his wife's affections in public like this! Didn't the fool realise that Henry would have his head off his shoulders before dinner?! Clenching his fists with rage, he was about to begin striding angrily in their direction when a sudden thought stopped him.

Things were… different, here. The rules he was used to simply didn't apply, he was noticing. What if this was another example? His mistresses didn't seem to exist in this bizarre version of his life, and Catherine seemed…. He squinted, taking a closer look at the situation unfolding in the corridor ahead of him. The Duke of Guise laughed heartily about something he'd just said, the sound ringing off the stone walls, and Catherine threw back her head and laughed too! Henry felt disconcerted. His wife looked perfectly comfortable accepting the flirtatious attention of another man, where anybody could see her. Was it _permitted_ here? He watched the Duke take his hand from the wall and stand straight, inclining his head as he offered what Henry presumed to be a compliment to his Queen. Catherine smiled that beautiful smile that he never really saw anymore, and her eyes actually shone as she leaned in towards the Duke. Her hand went to his shoulder and he leaned down to her, allowing her to kiss his cheek, where she lingered a little before she slid her hand down his arm, leaving his fingers with a little squeeze as she sashayed past him in Henry's direction.

The smile was still on her face as she saw him standing there, but when her expression changed, it wasn't as Henry had expected, to one of apprehension or guilt. She just seemed pleasantly surprised to see him, and continued her pace towards him. Henry tried his best not to let his anger get the better of him, but it was impossible to hide his feelings.

"Problem, Henry?" Catherine looked concerned.

"What does he think he's doing?!" Henry's dark eyes flicked down the empty corridor behind his wife, where the Duke had departed.

Catherine smirked slightly, her eyes twinkling as she looked at him through amused eyes. "Oh, you know Christian… He's harmless enough." She chuckled softly, lost in thought for a moment, before looking up at Henry, her eyebrows raised with sudden interest and amusement. "Jealous, Henry? That's not like you!"

And she ducked her head a little to hide her smile as she passed him, disappearing around the corner and leaving Henry completely disorientated with a whirlwind of feelings that he hadn't had the misfortune to encounter in quite some time.


	4. Chapter 4

_AN : Thank you so much for the encouraging reviews! I'm so happy people like this one, because I had so much fun writing it! It will have 8 chapters, not one of my longer stories, and will be M rated for chapter 6 - a heads-up in case you don't like reading M material. I'll change the story rating when it comes to that chapter. I hope you continue to enjoy it, and please keep the reviews coming - I love love love receiving them!_

 **Chapter Four**

Henry kept to his chambers for the rest of the day, feigning a headache, when the truth was that he was just too terrified to go out and face the world around him. He felt as though he was spinning out of control with nothing familiar to hold on to, and he couldn't make it stop. A short nap didn't help, but Henry hoped that a proper sleep overnight would have the effect of resetting the strange events that had taken place since he woke from his last long sleep. Unfortunately for Henry, a somewhat restless night's sleep did not make any difference to the maddening situation he was still faced with upon rising the next morning. He still woke to his things decorating his wife's chambers, and knew with a sinking heart that he was still trapped in this world – Catherine ruling France in his place, even waking in his place in her no-doubt lavishly decorated version of his own private chambers. He prickled with indignation at the thought, sweeping his coverlet aside roughly, and dressing as quickly as he could before his servants could come and slow him down by aiding him. He would go and see for himself. It was still early, but he did not care.

The castle was bustling with servants at this time of the morning, all hurrying back and forth from bedchambers and kitchens, making sure everything was in place for nobles and royals alike to be able to rise and make a start to their day. As he turned the familiar corner to his own chambers, he saw that it was guarded as usual, though with Catherine's guards, not his own. Approaching the doors, he was surprised to see them opening, thinking that perhaps Catherine was on her way out already, but a servant backed out instead, and closed the doors behind him. Henry stopped a few feet away, observing the man. He took an instant dislike to him. The way he hesitated, still half-turned to the door, and the jaunty little smirk on his lips as he tugged his shirt to straighten it – something about him just raised his hackles. He didn't want that servant boy near his wife.

The young man turned fully now, and startled slightly at the unexpected sight of the King standing in front of him, glaring down from his full height. He recovered himself quickly and nodded his head slightly, acknowledging his presence.

"Your Majesty," he murmured respectfully, though his body language seemed almost to defy his words. His eyes lifted again, and he looked Henry straight in the eye, unusually bold and confident for a low-born, especially one so young.

"Your name?" Henry barked out.

"Christophe," the man's lips quirked again into that infuriating smirk. "I'm a Valet des Chambres. I tend the castle's fires."

"You were here lighting the Queen's fire?"

The smile on Christophe's face broadened, and his eyes shone darkly with something that Henry didn't quite recognise. He was almost too bold, reckless in his attitude towards his King as he stood there.

"Yes, your Majesty," was all he said in response, a hint of smugness to his tone. His dark eyes seemed to Henry as though they held a challenge as he stood confidently before him and waited for him to speak. Henry had never seen this young man before, but he most certainly would see to it that he was sent somewhere else to work. This very day if he could manage it.

"What are you just standing there for!" hesnapped. "Get on with your work!"

He took a moment to breathe his irritation away, as Christophe sauntered off down the corridor, before turning again to the doors to his chambers.

"Father!"

Henry turned, caught off guard by the sound of his son's voice. Francis strode towards him, smiling cheerfully.

"You're up early this morning! What are your plans for the day?" Francis paused at his side, nodding towards the closed doors. "I shouldn't think mother is up yet. You know how she likes her rest before an important day." He clapped Henry on the shoulder in a friendly manner. Henry almost flinched at his son's touch. He wasn't used to such a casual and amiable relationship with his son and heir – well, his son and… whatever he now was. Confusion marred his senses, and he tried not to let it show, as a myriad of thoughts and questions passed through his mind in a matter of seconds. Was he especially close to Francis here? The way he had greeted him made him think so. It was similar to the way it felt when Bash –

His breath caught in his chest. If there was no Diane, could it be that there was no Bash? That his eldest son whose company he enjoyed so much simply didn't exist? He pushed the thought quickly from his mind, pulling himself back to the moment. What had Francis just said?

"Important day?" he managed, furrowing his brow in an attempt to hide his anguish with interest.

"Yes, she - " Francis paused. "Are you alright?"

Henry waved his hand dismissively, "Oh, bit of a headache, that's all. I probably should have slept a little longer, like your mother." He managed a light chuckle, and Francis seemed to accept his answer, continuing with his explanation.

"She's meeting the foreign ambassadors today – the summit, you remember? Are you attending this time?"

"I – I…. She – she hasn't mentioned…." Henry stammered, his words fading off. He felt suddenly redundant at his own Court. It was rather a shock to his system, and he felt unexpectedly deflated and unconfident.

"I'm sure she will brief you again before the event," said Francis comfortably. "Listen, I'm glad I ran into you. I wanted to thank you, for what you said on the wedding day."

"Hmmm?" Henry was completely confused. What had he said? And on whose wedding day?!

"You know," Francis lowered his voice a little, tugging Henry aside by his elbow, so that the two men stood by the alcoved window at the side of the corridor, away from the guards' listening ears. "The advice you gave me? Our man-to-man talk. It was…. very helpful."

"H-how so?"

"I appreciate that it can't have been easy for you, given the way things have turned out with you and mother… But, knowing the mistakes you've made, and the wisdom that comes from that – what you would have done differently if you'd known… I'm thankful that you felt able to share that with me, so that I can meet Mary's needs and, you know…" he gestured as though searching for the right words, "… serve her well, as her consort. I hope ours will be a happy marriage, and that I'll be able to provide her with an heir sooner than later. It will be so good for Scotland."

Before Henry could move to stop his own eyeballs falling out onto the stone floor, his son pulled him into a sudden close hug. "I will miss you, Father."

Henry gave Francis a few awkward pats on the back as they embraced, trying to relax his muscles so that he didn't alarm his son with his stiffness, which he realised could be interpreted as indifference. He needed to maintain whatever the norm was in this strange version of reality, so as not to arouse suspicion. Every explanation that came out of anyone's mouth here was just astonishingly odd, and he could not get used to it. Watching his son continue down the corridor with a cheerful wave, he pushed down rising panic and tried to remain calm. He needed to talk to Catherine, without her suspecting that anything was wrong.

He turned back to the doors decisively, and knocked. It seemed like knocking would be a good idea. Apparently, Catherine was awake after all, for she called out, "Enter!" and he stepped into the chambers that he knew as his own, closing the door behind him.

The Queen's chambers were magnificent! Henry gazed around him at the sumptuous embroidered textiles, the gold themed colours with dark red accents thrown in for that regal touch, the beautiful art adorning the walls, even a couple of her favourite marble statues in the corners of the room. His favourite tapestry remained on the wall, but then, that didn't surprise him. Catherine had always admired it and wanted it as her own. The only structural change to the room as he knew it was the addition of a luxurious window seat across the breadth of the enormous windows, lavishly framed with heavy drapes of deep red velvet, and padded with sumptuous gold cushions. He imagined that Catherine spent much of her free time reading in that window seat, and he smiled at the warmth that the thought gave him. It suited her well.

However, her majestic four-poster bed was a mess – the sheets rumpled, and even pulled away from the top corner on one side, and pillows scattered about. One of them had fallen to the floor beside the bed, along with the coverlet. Catherine herself was busily looking through her wardrobe of clothing on the other side of the room. She wore a silk nightgown and a floor length wine-coloured robe. Her hair was, well, gorgeous. Loose over her shoulders and curling down her back in a tousled disarray, messier than Henry remembered it, but attractive all the same. She was flushed, even down to her chest and beyond under the lace-edged neckline of her nightgown, and had a brightness to her eyes that seemed familiar to Henry. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Surely she hadn't been… His mind jerked back to the smug servant boy leaving her chambers not too long ago, and his eyes flicked quickly to the fireplace.

Whatever else the young man had been doing here, he had indeed tended to the fire, which was well stocked with logs, crackling and burning merrily.

"What do you need, Henry?"

Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he looked over at her, his mind completely blank as to what he had originally wanted to see her about. He was overcome with an urge to demand to know what she had been up to with that foolish boy, but he couldn't bring himself to ask. Suddenly the possibility crushed him, and he was afraid to have it voiced, because it would make it more real. He realised that it would hurt him to hear her tell him that yes, she had just allowed that young _thing_ into her bed to pleasure her; that he had not only lit the chamber fires, but hers as well, accounting for the flush over half her body. His eye fell again on the dishevelled bed – evidence of no small amount of passion – and his fists clenched miserably, as he fought to keep her from seeing how enraged he was that another man would DARE to touch her, when she belonged to him and him alone. He would not acknowledge it. It would suggest that he, Henry, her husband and the King of France, was not… enough. That she would turn to a young _nobody_ – and goodness knows who else – to meet her sexual needs instead of him. Why would she not turn to him? The question hung painfully in his mind, needing an answer, but he was afraid to find out. It was a sobering and surprisingly unbearable thought that he pushed down with every ounce of his strength, maintaining a forcibly calm exterior as he acknowledged Catherine's question.

"Where is Diane?"

"Diane who?" She barely looked up from the rack of dresses.

"Diane de Poitiers. Don't you know her?"

Catherine paused, her brow furrowed, looking off into the distance for a moment as she tried to place the name, before turning to Henry. "Do you mean the Diane who was lady-in-waiting to your mother years ago?" She seemed genuinely mystified at his question.

"I – Yes, that's her." Henry's palms began to sweat, and he wiped them subtly on the hips of his embroidered doublet.

Catherine's frown vanished, and she shrugged, her eyebrows raised. "I've no idea where she is after all these years. Why?" She turned back to the dresses, her interest waning.

"No reason," Henry deflected. "She just… came to mind, that's all."

"Oh." His wife held a beautiful pearl-encrusted gown to herself, turning to face Henry with her eyebrows raised again, in question. "For the summit. What do you think?"

Finally, he was being asked his opinion over a decision to be made! He nodded his approval. "Very fitting."

Catherine smiled with satisfaction, turning to lay the gown on her rumpled bed. "You always did have an eye for these things," she said softly, and Henry wondered if he could discern a hint of wistful nostalgia in her tone.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Henry leaned his elbows on the table, dropping his forehead into his hands for a brief moment, exasperated.

"I do not understand why you refuse to see that it would be in France's best interest to stake a claim to England!"

The ladies around the table – Catherine's _ridiculous_ Privy Council – made various gestures and sighs of disdain, as though he was getting in their way this afternoon. By questioning a few people after leaving Catherine's chambers that morning, Henry had managed to discover that Catherine had no interest in claiming lands or conquering countries. Even the honour of reclaiming Calais seemed to be of no interest to her! This being one of the things that mattered most to Henry, he was infuriated by her attitude. He saw the summit as a vital opportunity, and he had wasted no time in making sure that he didn't miss the Privy Council meeting, which was to take place a couple of hours before the summit.

"Henry," the Queen's voice was hard, and he could tell that her patience was running out. "I am… pleased, that you have taken an interest in matters of Court, and that you have chosen to join us this afternoon. I respect your opinion, but I will not, on any account, waste our country's money and effort in a pointless war."

Henry lifted his head, glaring at her. "But England has done us great wrong!"

There was a murmur of doubt around the table. Henry swept his gaze over the women, confused. A tall, middle-aged lady wearing a red velvet gown spoke.

"Your Majesty," she began respectfully, "What is this wrong of which you speak? Queen Elizabeth has always been on good terms with France. The marriage of your son to the Scottish Queen pleases her greatly. If anything, it further strengthens our ties with England, given that they are on such good terms with Scotland."

"Good terms…?" he asked weakly.

"Yes, _good terms_ , Henry," Catherine spoke up again, reasserting her council member's words. "And I don't know why you are so bothered about Calais all of a sudden. You do remember, don't you, that we _gave_ Calais to the English as a gift? So that we would always have a part of England in the heart of our land? In much the same way as we were gifted Portsmouth, in England, as a settlement for our people."

"Hmmm?" was all Henry could manage. It was like a story, a nonsensical, ridiculous farce of a story that had too many twists and turns for him to be able to follow the plot. He looked around the table, at the wide eyes of the well-dressed women who ruled his country, and his scalp prickled with irritation over the situation. He hated to feel as though his hands were tied, that he had no control whatsoever over the happenings of his own country, or even any say in how his family affairs were managed! He felt compelled to assert himself, even in the face of defeat at this table.

"Even so," he began with a belligerent tone, "I will not stand by and allow - "

"Henry." His wife's cool, calm voice interrupted him. If he knew anything about her, it was that this tone of voice was dangerous. She would use it when he had completely cut her off from any possible way of getting what she wanted over something, when she had gone to that place inside, where she knew she would resort to something unethical to achieve it anyway, at any cost. He knew her. So, he wisely stopped talking. She stood, slowly, and the room was silent, waiting. "This is not your decision to make. We will take your opinion into consideration, but you seem… tired, and not quite yourself. I do not think it would be a good idea for you to attend the summit this afternoon. Return to your chambers to rest. I will send the physician to check on you later."

He was being dismissed! _Dismissed_ , in front of this roomful of people, by his wife! He saw spots, he was so livid. Standing with such force that his chair scraped backwards and tipped over, he looked his wife in the eye.

"Do NOT send your seer!" he warned, and then he turned and left the room hastily, letting the door slam behind him in his anger.

/-/-/-/-/-/

Since his head ached with the tension, Henry did try to rest in his chambers, but he was too incensed to relax properly. Knowing that the summit was taking place - such an important event! - and he was relegated to his room like a naughty child… it was just too much! He would not stand for such treatment, such humiliation! The last straw came some hours later, when the summit was probably finished, and a knock came to the door. Hoping it was Catherine, so that he could release his frustration and give her a piece of his mind, he called out sharply, "Come in!"

A guard inserted himself in the partly opened doorway, and said, "Nostradamus, your Grace. The Queen has sent him to see you."

"NO!" Henry leapt up from his bed as though stung, his anger lashing out at the unfortunate guard. "I will NOT see her _bearded wonder_! Send him away!"

As the door closed, he thrust his arms into his shirt sleeves and fumbled to button up his doublet over the top, too angry to keep his hands steady.

"I _told_ her not to send him!" he muttered fiercely to himself.

He would put up with this no longer.

/-/-/-/-/-/

Approaching her chambers, he was too angry to pay much attention to the guards as they hesitated before stepping aside, one of them attempting to caution him gently, "Uh… your Majesty…" Pushing past them without letting the guard finish and through the doors with something of a crash, Henry strode into his wife's chambers.

He stopped in his tracks, shocked into silent immobility despite his anger, upon finding Catherine "otherwise engaged" with yet another man! What in the world was going on?! She had changed her clothes since the summit. Standing at her bedside in a soft velvet dress displaying far too much of her lovely cleavage to this - this _upstart_ , she was locked in a passionate embrace with the well-toned, but smaller, more delicately built man (' _does she prefer this build in men?'_ he worried suddenly, aware of his heavier-set build and size in comparison). Their bodies were pressed together so closely in their embrace, that Catherine had to arch her back a little in order to lift her chin to meet his lips with her own, which she was most definitely doing with some fervour, as Henry looked on. The man enjoying her favour slid his treasonous hand down the soft fabric covering her back, and slowly rounded her hip, smoothing over the side of her rear. Knowing she must be aware of his presence, Henry felt furious that she was continuing her activity in front of his eyes! She languidly finished the passionate kiss with a hum and a low chuckle, her lashes low and fluttering as she looked into her lover's eyes, before setting her shoulders with a deep breath and turning to face her bristling husband.

"Henry. What can I do for you?" She was all business now, it seemed.

"How about showing your husband some respect?!" came his livid response. His wife smiled calmly, unwilling to match his temper with her own, which further enraged Henry.

"How about you earn some, husband dear?" She took a step forward, putting her lover into the background as she prepared to talk marriage and politics with her King. "Since you're my husband, you may, of course, call on me at my chambers any time you like. But I don't appreciate you attempting to take over my meetings with my Privy Council, or barging in with such an attitude and disturbing me when I am trying to relax."

"RELAX?!" Henry was too furious to keep his voice down. His eyes were black with hatred and jealousy as he recognised the man who stood behind his wife with an irritating smirk on his lips, caressing Catherine's shoulder and upper arm. "Lord Narcisse is – _was_ – a friend of mine! I'll have his head for this!" The man looked too cocksure, too smug. Almost as if he didn't fear Henry at all. Nothing was making sense!

"My dear," Catherine let out a soft chuckle as she crossed the room smoothly to stand in front of him. "You will do no such thing. Have you forgotten that _I_ am Queen? Heads do not roll unless _I_ say so." She followed his murderous gaze to the smaller man who attempted to straighten his smirk, and looked at the ground, averting his eyes from Henry.

"You know Henry, I'm not sure what has caused this sudden fit of jealousy, but threatening to attack any lover of mine is not the way to deal with it. Kings have been beheaded in times past for acts of rage against the lovers of their Queens, and you'd do well to remember that." She paused, and Henry brought his eyes back to meet hers, confused to the point of fear over her nonsensical words. Seeing his attention back with her again, she continued, "If you'd been an attentive husband, as we've discussed before, we wouldn't be in this situation. But as it is…" she turned her body partway towards Narcisse, holding out her hand to him behind her, and he came to meet her, curling his arm around her shoulders protectively. "A Queen has needs, Henry." She looked straight at him with an unreadable expression.

"They are MINE to fulfil!" he almost pleaded.

"I'm sure they should be, husband. The years have driven a wedge between us, have they not? You have pushed me away. What did you expect me to do? Wait a decade or so for you to have a change of heart?!" She turned her face slightly towards Narcisse with a little smile, and he raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles slowly, lingering deliberately, Henry was sure, as he made eye contact with the King. Her earrings tinkled gently as she smiled and lowered her head slightly in response.

" _He_ should be showing his _King_ more respect!" spat Henry furiously, ready to launch himself at the smirking fool and punch the living daylights out of his smug features, if only Catherine wasn't blocking his way with her proximity.

She sighed, obviously tiring of this discussion. "Henry, I don't know what is the matter with you. You know that Stephane has been in my life for many years, and you didn't think to speak out of turn like this before now!"

Anger pushed him to sarcasm. "Oh, _Stephane_ , is it now?!" he put on an airy voice barely covering the fierce jealousy he was overwhelmed with. The man in question smiled and gave a slight bow, a sign of respect with no trace of the actual sentiment. Catherine lightly swatted Narcisse's hand off her arm, distracted, her brow furrowing as she moved again towards Henry.

"Henry, are you feeling alright? You don't seem yourself today. Perhaps you should see the court physician." She reached out cautiously to touch his face, but he jerked away from her hand, too incensed to calm down for now. He raised his hand and pointed aggressively with his forefinger at Lord Narcisse.

"You, _Narcisse_ ," he hissed venomously, "you had better watch your step." His voice dropped dangerously low. "I'm warning you – know your place!"

"My place is wherever Catherine sees fit," came the man's nonchalant reply, "as you see."

Narcisse's smirk dropped off his face in an instant as Henry lunged for him. The smaller man stepped back nervously, and Catherine's voice rang out sharply, "Guards!"

Before he could get his bearings, Henry was being restrained by two of Catherine's guards, with two more waiting at the door. He threw a desperate glance at his wife.

"Henry, I will not have this behaviour!" Her voice was hard, but something in her expression softened as she paused to look at the man bristling before him, his arms held firmly by her guards. She stepped up to him and laid her hand on his chest, concern in her eyes, and spoke more softly. "You're not well - this isn't like you. I insist that my guards accompany you to the infirmary." Her hand moved to his cheek as she looked into his eyes with affection, and it was the most sane he had felt in this whole crazy couple of days. Catherine suddenly seemed like an anchor in the storm. He didn't want to break the moment and fall back into insanity, but he sensed that it would be prudent to follow his wife's instructions, especially since he was being given no choice in the matter. He nodded and sighed his resignation. Catherine smiled encouragingly. "I'll stop by and check on you shortly," she added, taking her hand from his face, and nodding curtly to the guards to escort Henry out.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Henry had endured the humiliation of being marched down the castle corridors to the infirmary by Catherine's guards as best he could. He was dreading having to be meddled with by Nostradamus, a man who thought he could see people's futures, but who, he was quite sure, had little to actually recommend him to a post as a physician, much less a royal one! Curbing his disgust at the thought of the man as they reached the doors of the infirmary, he was ushered through them by two of the guards.

The tall seer looked up from a table where he was crushing some herbs. His eyes widened a little as he saw the King and the manner by which he had arrived, but instead of coming to attend to Henry, he bowed slightly and spoke in his soft deep voice, "I'll let her know you're here."

" _Let who know?"_ thought Henry, as Nostradamus disappeared into an adjoining room. His breath caught in his throat as a beautiful woman with long red hair stepped into the room, with Nostradamus trailing in her wake. She observed him with a curious, almost alluring look in her eye, and Henry felt quite spellbound. He sat on the bed, and she approached him, glancing up briefly at the guards for an explanation.

"The Queen has sent King Henry to be examined, Emmanuelle," explained one of them. "She had to call us to restrain him in her chambers for violent behaviour - "

"Towards the Queen?!" Emmanuelle interrupted in surprise. Her voice was deep and melodic, adding to the allure.

"Towards Lord Narcisse," the guard clarified. "She is concerned that he may be unwell and asked us to escort him here."

The red-head nodded, and the guards moved hesitantly towards the door. She looked up again at them. "You may wait outside the doors. I will call you if I need you." They left, and she turned her attention to Henry, taking in his astonished expression with interest.

"You don't know who I am?" she asked him smoothly.

Henry shook his head, transfixed. There was something so intriguing about her. He was inexplicably attracted to her, and a smile curved at the corner of his lips. "I don't," he replied, "but I'm very much looking forward to finding out."

"Lie down." Her countenance betrayed no response to his comment, other than an annoyingly superior lift of her eyebrows. What was it with the women here?! Why did none of them respond to his charm like he was used to?! It was as though they could read his mind and had no particular desire, or need, to walk that path. Most exasperating!

He reclined obediently on the bed, and the woman leaned over him, placing her hands on his head.

"I do prefer your touch to that of Nostradamus…" mused Henry playfully, hoping to elicit some response from the mysterious beauty who appeared to be in charge of his infirmary. She gave him a smile that seemed to Henry a mixture of sympathy and sarcasm, and looked up to Nostradamus.

"Prepare a camomile tea for the King while I examine him."

"Must he?!" Henry made a face. "If it's relaxation you're aiming for, a glass of good burgundy would be much more effective."

"I'm aiming for a calming effect _without_ intoxication," she retorted, as Nostradamus left the room. "Now, tell me, did you injure yourself in any way recently? Any dizziness or unusual tiredness?"

Henry shook his head.

"You seem confused about some things. Can you tell me more about that?" She pulled a nearby stool over to the bed and sat on it, folding her hands in her lap as she watched him. Henry wondered if anyone could be trusted with his secret in this place, or if this strange woman would simply condemn him as a mad King. Perhaps he _was_ mad?! That would explain a lot.

"I – I woke from a dream yesterday," he began with uncertainty. "Or at least, I woke, but the dream seems to be continuing."

Emmanuelle nodded, seemingly accepting what he was saying. "And this dream – is it different from what you're used to?"

"Yes!" Henry's agitation returned. "When I went to sleep, everything was as it always was! And then I woke, and suddenly the King has no power!"

"No power?"

"Exactly! All of a sudden the castle is full of women in charge - Catherine instead of me, Elizabeth instead of Francis, even you – whoever you are! – instead of Nostradamus."

Emmanuelle had begun to laugh, an unsettling chuckle that made Henry feel uneasy.

"What is so amusing?!"

"I'm sorry, your Majesty, but what a thing! Imagine if the men were the ones in charge of the country, or the castle!" She laughed more heartily, obviously amused. "I would be unsettled by such a dream too!"

"But that wasn't the dream!" Henry sat up, exasperated and on the verge of panic. "That was the reality!"

She stopped laughing and eyed him thoughtfully. Nostradamus appeared silently with a cup of fragrant tea, and handed it to the King, bowing and retreating to the table to continue working with the herbs. The room was silent as the red-haired physician observed her patient. The doors opened, breaking the silence, as Henry lifted his cup to sip the tea.

"Henry." Catherine swept into the room and made straight for his side. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired, and in need of wine," he replied, gesturing towards Emmanuelle standing at the foot of his bed. "She had your seer make me a cup of tea." He rolled his eyes, forcing himself to take another sip of the hot drink.

Catherine's gaze shifted from him to the woman. "Emmanuelle, what can you tell me about Henry's condition?"

"He doesn't appear to be injured, your Majesty. He does seem… confused, and I would recommend that we rule out poison as a possibility, beginning with anything he may have ingested or come into contact with the night before last. His confusion began upon waking yesterday morning."

The Queen looked back at her husband, her eyes softened with concern, and she gave a nod. Emmanuelle moved to Catherine's side. "Nostradamus and I will begin our investigations immediately."

"Must he stay here?"

"While we examine his chambers, yes, I think it would be wise."

Sitting up, Henry groaned with exasperation. "This has been one of the longest days of my life! Can a man not get any peace?! All I want to do is retire to my own chambers and sleep!"

"Henry, you heard Emmanuelle. You know you can't be in your chambers if there's a chance that you've been poisoned, and whatever it is could still be there." She reached out and touched his cheek gently, despite the authoritative tone of her voice. "We have to get to the bottom of this, and I want you to be safe."

He reached up and placed his hand over her smaller one against his face, feeling almost like a boy looking for reassurance suddenly. "Catherine… can't I – can't I stay in your chambers tonight?" When she touched him, he felt safe and grounded, like before in her chambers. He wanted to stay close to her. Her hand slipped from under his, and she stepped back, her walls going up again.

"I wouldn't mind, Henry, but I have plans for the evening and I - " her eyes flicked away from his, "I am not sure you would enjoy the company…"

Knowing very well what she meant, Henry lowered his forehead to his clenched fist, trying to stifle his anger and the headache that was rising up from nowhere.

"The guest quarters nearest to my chambers will suffice." She spoke briskly. "I will have Francis arrange it with the servants for you, since you are not in a fit state to take on matters of housekeeping."

Henry looked up abruptly. "What?"

The Queen and Emmanuelle exchanged a look of concern, and then Catherine spoke again. "Perhaps you _should_ stay here tonight, Henry?"

"No." Henry may be disorientated, but he was not about to stay and be watched by the odd bearded seer all night. A good night's sleep away from all the madness was what he needed. "No, the guest chambers sound fine."

Catherine moved towards the door to leave, and paused there for a moment as Emmanuelle joined her.

"See that he remains here until the chambers are ready for him."

"Of course."

Listening to their soft tones, Henry looked up to watch Catherine leave, just in time to catch her giving a look to the red-haired woman that took his breath away. It was only for a moment, and there were no words exchanged, but if Henry didn't know better, he would have sworn that Catherine threw this woman a dark look of lust with a hint of an intriguing smile. And the red-head had returned it with a matching glance!

What the hell was going on here?!


	6. Chapter 6

**_AN_** _: Thank you so much for the lovely reviews on this story! I love reading them, and I'm so glad you guys are enjoying my story! This chapter is M rated and I've changed the rating of the story to M as well. If explicit stuff isn't your thing, nothing beyond the first 6 or 7 paragraphs is safe! ;) Feel free to skip it if you prefer. I hope that even if what I chose to write about in this chapter isn't what you expected, it will still be fun for you to read all the same. :)_

 _/-/-/-/_

 **Chapter Six**

The guest chambers along the corridor from his own – Catherine's, he kept having to correct himself – were nicer than he expected. He would be comfortable enough here. He had everything he needed, and servants waiting on him. Now that he had eaten and relaxed a little, his headache had settled down. He dismissed the servants, telling them he was turning in for the night and that he wouldn't require any assistance in getting ready for bed.

He had absolutely no intention of going to bed. His chambers had belonged to him for decades, and he knew the passages around it like the back of his hand. If he was right in thinking…. He felt along the panelled wall in the alcove where clothes had been placed for him, and let out a triumphant sound when part of the wood clicked and swung back, revealing a dark passageway.

Since he had spoken to Catherine in the infirmary, he could not stop thinking about what she had said – that she had plans for the evening, and that he would not enjoy the company. Perhaps she meant Narcisse, but then the look she gave that intriguing woman in charge of the infirmary… He began to wonder if it was some sort of subtle invite. He had to know, and he could barely contain himself waiting for the time to come when he might sneak through the passageways to find out.

Their rooms being on the same corridor, Henry knew he did not have to go far along the dark uneven path before reaching his old chambers. There was a panel that would admit him to the room, but he didn't want that one. He felt about along the cold wall for a curve, and suddenly there it was under his fingertips. It seemed like an uneven section of the rough wall, as though it was just widening the passage a little, but Henry knew it wasn't. Turning sideways, he slid along the curve, following it until it sharply turned back on itself, and he was behind it. The new place in which he found himself was separate to the passageway he had come from, just a small clearing, big enough for two or maybe three people to hide in the event of a siege. Not a room as such, more of a tiny area to wait things out. There was no space for supplies, furniture, or any sort of comfort, and he doubted anyone even knew of its existence. The reason he had chosen it was for the small opening in the wall. The blackness around him prevented him from seeing what he was looking for, so he had to feel for it, slowly and carefully so that he didn't miss it.

On the other side of the opening, he knew, hung a tapestry on the walls of his chambers. He had seen that Catherine kept the same tapestry in the same place, which meant he could carry out his plan as he had hoped. Ah! There was the gap in the wall! He drew himself up to it and leaned in close. The tapestry had a hole about the size of a coin, right in front of the hole in the wall. An eye at the hole would never be noticed by someone inside the room, thanks to the busy and colourful pattern on the tapestry. He could see the light from the room beyond as he put his face close to the wall, and leaned in.

Henry pressed his eye to the hole in the tapestry, hardly daring to breathe. There she was, that strange auburn-haired woman, Emmanuelle, standing near the foot of Catherine's bed. Her fingers curled around the carved bedpost that rose up far beyond her height as she spoke in low tones. Henry could see Catherine too. Her back was partly towards Henry, so he couldn't see her face, but he saw that she was dressed very informally in a soft velvet dress with wide sleeves. She had unpinned her long hair and it was loose down her back in beautiful strawberry blonde curls and waves. Catherine held a goblet of wine in her hand, and she raised it now to her lips as the other woman talked to her. She spoke so softly that Henry could not really make out what she was saying. Their laughter rumbled low between them, and then whatever had occurred to them caused the atmosphere in the room to change.

The red-head unwrapped her hand from the bedpost, and began to walk towards Catherine, her eyes dark and seductive, and her lips curled in a smile that would have sent the majority of Henry's blood rushing to his male organ if it had been directed at him. But it wasn't. It was directed at his wife. He couldn't see her face, but he recognised the way Catherine's shoulders rose and straightened with a deep steadying breath, and how she tossed her head slightly, her hair sliding over her shoulder. If he didn't know better, he would say that she was…. aroused. She shifted her weight, her hips moving slightly as she watched Emmanuelle cross the room towards her, and the arm that belonged to the hand holding her goblet of wine slackened, lowering without her noticing. She was allowing, no - _inviting_ the situation to unfold! He knew it! He knew he had seen a spark between them! Henry didn't think his eye could get any wider, his eyelashes grazing the frayed fabric of the tapestry as he waited with baited breath to see what would happen next.

Upon reaching Catherine, Emmanuelle threw a brief glance down at the wine in his wife's hand, before looking back up to meet her gaze. The silence was deafening as she held Catherine's eyes with her own, taking the cup gently from her hand, the scrape of its base against the stone ledge sounding harsh to his ears as she placed it out of the way. They were barely ten feet from where Henry stood. He watched, entranced, as the woman reached up and wordlessly brushed Catherine's hair back from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. Now Henry could see his wife's face, and he schooled a gasp as he beheld the lust in her eyes and the colour in her cheeks. Was this how Catherine truly was? He had no idea she was such a sexual being! He expected that she might look a little nervous, as she sometimes had with him when they hadn't been intimate with each other in a long time, but she didn't. She wore an expression of such confidence and desire, and her little smile was so intoxicating and inviting that Henry was hopelessly aroused as he watched her. He hadn't even remembered to feel jealous and affronted that Catherine was sharing herself with others when she belonged to him. No, this – this was something that Henry was quite content to watch her do.

Emmanuelle's hand was still touching Catherine's hair, and Henry saw her fingers curl in it slightly as she pulled Catherine in. Their lips met, and they shared a passionate kiss, slow and sensual. Henry watched Catherine's hands go to the other woman's hips as she stepped in close enough so that the curves of their breasts pressed up against each other, and he let out a shaky breath.

Catherine. With a woman. _Catherine!_ And that fool Narcisse, and the servant boy… Henry's mind reeled as he processed his thoughts. How could he have not known this about Catherine? Of course, he knew that she was a passionate woman – she always was when they were intimate together, but he took that as a sign of her devotion to him. He hadn't really thought about the possibility that her fire and hunger for him was evidence of her _need_ , her desire for her own pleasure. He felt a stab of disgust at himself. He had never really considered her needs at all, only his own. She was a far more sexual creature than he had ever known, and something about that realisation lit a fire in him that took his breath away. He focused his eye back on the scene unfolding in his wife's chambers, noting her head tipped back with pleasure, her eyes closed and her beautiful hair down her back as the red-head cupped Catherine's breasts in her hands through the soft fabric, stroking them amorously, her mouth moving down his wife's throat. He almost sighed aloud watching her. The other woman was attractive too, but he only had eyes for Catherine. She had all _this_ under her cool, unaffected surface?! Who would have thought it?

Henry startled at the sudden knock. The ladies parted, though they didn't look surprised by the interruption, looking expectantly at the door. He gritted his teeth in jealous fury as Narcisse appeared in the room, closing _and locking_ the door behind him. Surely not… Henry's eye at the hole in the tapestry flicked back hastily to Catherine and Emmanuelle. They wore the same inviting smiles that they had given each other, and Catherine gestured casually towards the small table bearing a jug of wine and some goblets. Narcisse walked smoothly towards it, looking very much like the cat that got the cream, a self-satisfied smirk curling his lips. He poured himself some wine, took a long sip, and turned to the women.

"Starting without me?" he enquired, in a deliberately provocative tone. Henry's horror intensified as he realised what was happening here. He was caught in a moment of indecision. He didn't think he could bear to stay and watch Narcisse, of all people, put his hands on his own wife – and the bastard would have _two_ gorgeous women at his beck and call as well! – but on the other hand, he didn't know if he would have the strength to tear himself away. He had to watch her, he just had to. He couldn't stand to miss out any more than he already was.

Catherine pushed her long curls back over her shoulder with her hand. "You're late," she reprimanded him with humour in her tone. "What did you expect us to do with our time?"

"Oh, I don't know…" Narcisse sauntered towards her, his wine swinging slightly in his hand with his movements. "Things that women do while they wait? Talk about dresses, men, monopolising nations…?"

Henry caught a little snort of amusement from Catherine. She reached out to Narcisse, taking the cup from his hand as Emmanuelle had done to her own cup earlier, and drank from it before placing it next to her own. "A woman waits for no man," she said in a low, throaty voice. "Don't you know that by now?"

Pulling him to her by the hand, she kissed him hungrily. Henry cringed at the sight of Narcisse's eager hands reaching around his wife's body, caressing up her back on his way to the wide neckline of her velvet dress. He tugged at it with his fingers, and Emmanuelle stepped up behind Catherine, blocking Henry's view for a moment as she helped to slip the dress from her shoulders. The red-haired woman let her hand linger, stroking across the bare skin of Catherine's back between the narrow straps of her shift, as she moved around the couple, dropping a kiss to the side of Narcisse's neck, where she began to undo his shirt. Without breaking the heated kiss, Catherine was working at the man's belt and the ties of his trousers, which she freed him from quickly. Henry heard the clink of the belt buckle as it hit the stone floor. His heart pounded as he watched them. He hated every second of seeing his wife at the hands of another, but he was mesmerised. Their smooth, seamless movements together were almost hypnotic.

Emmanuelle had crossed behind Narcisse to pull the shirt from his back, before slipping off her own outer garment, leaving her standing in her thin shift as she ran her hands over his back and shoulders. Henry hated the man for his well-toned chest and back, and the muscles standing out on his strong arms as he fumbled with the ties at the front of Catherine's under-garment.

"Let me help." The oddly-enticing woman stood at the side of the couple who were apparently too intoxicated with each other to break their kiss. Henry almost looked away. The hunger they had for each other, the way their lips were pressed together so urgently, parting and meeting again with fervour; opening, tasting each other. That was the way Henry loved to kiss Catherine, when they were lost in passion of their own. He knew that intriguing mouth and the taste of her, and that she was talented with that delicious tongue of hers. His ribs ached with the bittersweet mixture of longing for her touch and seeing it given instead to someone else.

The woman made quick work of releasing Catherine's shift, stepping behind her to help push it down to the floor, before pressing herself to Catherine's naked back, kissing at her shoulders and slipping her hands around to hold her breasts.

As Henry watched, it didn't take long for him to notice that Catherine seemed to be the focus of their attentions, rather than each of them participating for themselves. Narcisse didn't appear all that interested in the other woman, and she herself gave more attention to Catherine than to Narcisse. As much as he hated watching them with her, something inside him did enjoy that she was the one they both wanted. Perhaps it was a flash of misplaced pride, since – he reminded himself firmly – she belonged to him, and he knew she was worth having. Hearing himself say those words so clearly in his mind was like a slap to the face, and he hadn't expected it. He pulled back from the tapestry into the dark space. What the hell was wrong with him? She _was_ worth having. How was he realising this _here_ , and yet in his normal life he had no problem shunning her for other women? Was it just the fact that she was in the room behaving like some sort of erotic seductress that he had never even met before – did he only want her _now_ because of what he was seeing? That didn't seem fair to Catherine. She would still be the same person even if he hadn't discovered this about her.

Henry thought about the times when she had approached him, somewhat guarded in her manner. It didn't happen often, but then, perhaps she wasn't so much disinterested as afraid of being rejected? Even the other day when she came to his chambers, and asked him when they were last intimate together, he had blown her off and sent her away. He felt disgusted with himself when he remembered that he had told her they no longer needed to produce heirs, as though that was the only reason he would sleep with her. He pressed his fists to his eyes in shame. He had Diane and Kenna, and any other woman he pleased, to meet his needs whenever he felt like it. Catherine was not permitted, and to see her need so obvious here, where she was able to meet it, where their roles were reversed… He was suddenly impressed by the way she handled it in his world – in the real world. He had given her no choice – society's rules had given her no choice – but she didn't beg or plead, and as far as he knew, she had taken no lovers in retribution, or as a way to satisfy herself when he didn't. He was not sure if he could remain so strong in this place, now that he was in her position.

Henry had no idea how long he had been sitting in the dark pondering these things, when sounds filtered back through to his mind from the other side of the tapestry. Such delicious sounds, which pulled at him to return to the hole and look through again.

Catherine was moaning, gasping, the throaty sounds vibrating heat all the way to his core. Trying to calm his breathing, Henry moved carefully to place his eye against the tapestry. He gasped aloud when he saw them, and then suddenly panicked that he would have given himself away with the sound, but it seemed that Catherine had perfectly timed her own sharp breath with his.

The three of them were naked, with Narcisse sitting on the edge of the big bed, leaning back a little. Catherine sat upon his lap, her back to him, his hands at her hips. Henry could see the man's fingers gripping her tightly, sinking slightly into her soft flesh. She moved on him slowly, lifting up a little and then letting Narcisse pull her back down. Henry had the perfect view of her as she faced outwards, blessedly blocking Narcisse from Henry's sight as his face was against her back. Their legs were parted, Catherine's spread wider, placed outside of Narcisse's, and Emmanuelle stood between them, giving Catherine her full attention. The two women kissed intermittently, the red-head breaking away to move her mouth to Catherine's breasts, sucking at her and kissing heatedly. Henry noticed that throughout all this, her hand was constantly between Catherine's legs, where she used her fingers to rub and pleasure her. With her other hand, she appeared to be pleasuring herself. He took a deep, heady breath. No wonder Catherine was moaning!

He forgot all about the others in the room and just took pleasure in watching his wife, his beautiful, gorgeous wife, with her head tipped back and pink heat flushing her face and chest in her pleasure. She gasped and writhed, beginning to toss her head slightly from side to side in time with her thrusts against Narcisse, and her sounds became louder and keener.

Narcisse's hands made frantic movements against her hips, clutching at her and massaging hungrily, as she slammed down against him. "Catherine…" he heard the man groan, "Oh, Catherine…" Trying his best to ignore the bitter taste in his mouth, Henry watched as his wife reached her climax, barely even noticing his own breathless panting as he beheld her beautiful face bathed in exquisite pleasure. She cried out and trembled, and Emmanuelle leaned into her body as though in relief and ecstasy herself. Narcisse let out a loud grunt that tailed off into a moan, and flopped forwards against Catherine's back, so that she was well supported, sandwiched between her two lovers as they breathed heavily together.

Suddenly, Henry felt as though he was intruding, and he couldn't bring himself to watch any longer. Something about the intense intimacy of the moment, the secrecy – surely even in this reality, there could be severe consequences if it was discovered that the Queen of France was engaging in carnal relations with a woman, and perhaps even more so he guessed, if it involved two lovers at once. His mind was reeling so much that he wasn't sure what to think or do next. Should he tell Catherine that he knew of their affair? Would he manage to look her in the eye next time he saw her, in any case?! Part of him was so turned on by the whole event that he desperately wished he could replace Narcisse in the trio (ideally leaving him to relax on the rack in the dungeon while he did so), but for now, he decided to return to the guest chambers that had been prepared for him and try to sleep. Or possibly release some tension, given how much had apparently built up, and then get some sleep. He was suddenly aware of how tired he was. The general confusion was making him exhausted.


	7. Chapter 7

_**AN:**_ _Thank you so much for the reviews! I am so glad you liked Chapter Threesome, haha! ;) Next chapter will be the end of this story, and you know how I love Cathry, so I hope this chapter and the next meet with your approval!_

/-/-/

 **Chapter Seven**

Henry groaned as the drapes were pulled back and the light pierced the soothing darkness of his sleep. He hadn't slept so deeply in a long time – perhaps it was the effect of the passions he had witnessed last night, and possibly the relief he obtained once he was safely in his own bed. The last two days had certainly left him needy of a release of tension.

He thought back to last night. How would he even look Catherine in the eye today?! Perhaps she would be too busy to spend much time with him, and he wouldn't have to worry about it? He rolled onto his back, squeezing his eyes shut against the light. There was a knock at the door, and a guard entered.

"Lady Diane, your Majesty."

Henry's eyes shot open, and he jerked his chin to his chest to look down the room. There was Diane, smiling as she walked towards him. He sat up as the door was closed behind her, his eyes rapidly sweeping the room. It was his own familiar chambers! Everything was back to normal!

"Good morning," his mistress said in a seductive tone. "You're taking your time to get up!"

Henry just gaped at her. It felt like he ought to be relieved and just pick up where he'd left off before the dream, but he couldn't shake it. Had it really been a dream? He supposed it must have been, but he'd certainly never known anything like it before. It was so real, so vivid!

"Are you alright?" Diane looked concerned, taking in his stunned appearance.

"No," Henry found his voice. "I mean, yes. Just…. I had a - a vivid dream."

She reached out to cup his cheek, smiling sympathetically, but he flinched and pulled away from her. He saw the confusion and hurt in her eyes.

"What was this dream about, Henry?" She sounded suspicious.

"It's rather complicated actually." He slid to the edge of the bed and stood, wrapping his robe around him. "I'd rather not discuss it for now. It has just… caught me off-guard, so to speak."

"Vivid and complicated as in… the pressures of being King, or….?" She tailed off, her eyebrows raised expectantly as she watched him.

"Sort of the opposite," he admitted sheepishly, feeling unwilling to discuss it with his mistress any further. He felt he needed some space from her, to think clearly, to process the effect that the dream had had on him. He hadn't expected to feel this way, but there it was.

"Was I in the dream?" she questioned him defensively.

Henry shook his head. "It's not like that," he tried. "Diane, you know, I think it would be a good idea if you stayed at Anet for a while, hmm?"

She gave him a straight look. "You're sending me to Anet. _Sending_ me?"

"Just for now," he tried to reassure her, though he really didn't know what he wanted from her at the moment. "I just need to… focus on things with a clear mind, that's all."

"And you can't achieve this with me at your side?"

"Not this time," Henry admitted. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to hurt your feelings."

Diane smiled a tight-lipped smile that didn't reach her eyes. Taking a deep breath in, she lifted her chin. "Of course," she said. "I will make arrangements right away." Her gaze lingered on him a moment, and then she left the room. Henry sat down heavily on the bed, letting out a long breath. What now?

/-/-/-/-/-/

He sat in his map room, relishing the quiet solitude. It had been quite a day. His decisions had not been met with enthusiasm, and he could feel the tension in his shoulders weighing heavy now. He removed his ornate doublet and tossed it onto the velvet upholstered chair next to his desk, much more comfortable in just his lightweight shirt. Turning his head this way and that, he sought to loosen the tight muscles in his neck.

He had managed to avoid speaking with Catherine today, since he didn't know what to say to her, or even how to look at her without her knowing that something was different. He leaned back in his chair. He knew she was on her way to him even now. He had summoned her a few minutes ago, and she was always reliable about punctuality, even when he made requests without notice. He felt the guilt seep into his mind again, and took a deep breath, thinking about the day's events.

Diane had left the castle by lunch time. Kenna had not taken kindly to his request that she stop coming to see him, even though he was generous and promised that he would find her a suitor more than worthy of her status, to make up for it. He felt almost more alone than he had in the dream. His mistresses were gone, and Catherine – well, she was hardly speaking to him. Perhaps there was too much water under the bridge for them to ever reconcile? He was just as much alone as he had forced her to be, and although there was bitterness in that thought, it felt fitting to him, satisfying somehow. He deserved it.

The door opened, and there was his wife, his Queen. She closed it behind her, before turning to face him. He saw her in a different light now. Her hardness and slightly suspicious gaze didn't trigger defensiveness in him any longer. He smiled admiringly at her intelligence as he watched her taking in the empty room in silence with her quick eyes – he knew she would not have expected it to be just the two of them.

After a moment, and since Henry hadn't moved or spoken, Catherine took a few carefully placed steps towards him.

"What's going on, Henry?" Her tone was guarded.

"I wanted to apologise."

Her eyes widened in surprise, her eyebrows lifted almost to her hairline, and for a moment she looked lost for words. Then, recovering herself, she scoffed slightly, as if to cover her shock. "Why here?"

He smiled. "Neutral territory, I suppose." He stood, and rounded the desk, uncomfortably aware of the way she tightened her posture just slightly as he approached her.

"Catherine." He stopped in front of her. She tilted her face up to look at him, her strong, clear gaze meeting his with her hazel eyes. He tried to read her, but he couldn't. Not yet. She gave nothing away. "I was wrong – the other day. I haven't given you the respect you deserve."

Now he could read her – shock, almost, and then a quick effort to cover it with skepticism, and then she changed it again in a split second for an air of nonchalance. He saw the rapid exchange and it made him smile because how had he forgotten to appreciate Catherine's ways? The same strong personality and self-preserving mannerisms that he used to find adorable in their early years.

She lifted that stubborn chin of hers, and out of nowhere, Henry wanted to kiss her and melt all her defences away. Not yet, though.

"You were right about England, and Mary. I have cancelled the planned attack on Calais, and halted my preparations against England - " Catherine's mouth dropped open in surprise, " – for now. I still feel that when the time is right, France must reclaim Calais as her own. It is our right, and long overdue." Henry shifted his weight a little. "But, England… can wait. Mary must marry Francis, it is the right thing to do. For the Valois. For France." He smiled at her, more tenderly now, and reached out to pluck softly at a wispy curl that hung below her ear, smoothing the silky threads between his finger and thumb. "I should trust your opinion," he confessed. "You have good instincts, and I would value your input alongside my advisors in the future."

He stopped talking and waited. His wife stood before him, her mouth still open and yet no sound coming out of it ( _unusual for Catherine_ , he thought to himself wryly). Then a huff of a laugh, her eyes still locked with his, her head shaking in disbelief. But her eyes held a hint of affection which gave Henry hope.

"I am not sure what to say!" she exclaimed at length. "That was not what I was expecting to hear."

"I've no doubt." Henry's tone betrayed his regret for the way he had treated her.

"What brought this about?!"

"I… saw things from a different perspective. Let's just say it was beneficial, and it helped me to reprioritise."

Catherine's eyebrows raised. She was curious, he could tell, but he wasn't about to tell her of his dream.

"And you're sure you're quite well…?" she asked him. Henry almost laughed at the sparkle in her eyes as she teased him, because for the first time in what seemed like years, she was using humour more gently than if she was really mocking him – almost with affection. He managed to restrain himself to a mere twinkle in his own eye, reflecting hers, as he stood his ground.

"I am, thank you. Better than I have been for a while, actually."

An awkward silence fell between them, and although she seemed more relaxed, Henry could see the distrust under the surface. She was wondering what the catch was, he thought to himself. But he understood.

"I've talked with Bash and Francis. They know the situation, and both have agreed to it readily. I plan - " he hesitated. "What do you think, Catherine? What about the wedding taking place next week? There is really no reason to wait longer."

His wife smiled a relieved, happy smile. "I – I agree." Her voice sounded unsteady for a moment. "It will give enough time to prepare for the event. I shall see to it immediately."

Henry brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers, dropping his voice to a soft, gentle tone. "I'm sure you will do a wonderful job." He paused, watching her eyes soften as she looked into his. "You always do."

Removing his hand, he leaned down and kissed her cheek gently. He heard her swallow as he did so, and he straightened, turned, and picked up his doublet from the chair.

"I will leave it to you to make the decisions concerning the occasion." He pulled the garment on, and began to button it up, adding, "I'm going to eat dinner with Francis this evening. We ought to spend some time together – I haven't done that enough with him…"

He tailed off. Catherine had stepped up close to him and brushed his fingers aside with hers. She began deftly buttoning his doublet with her slender fingers, head bent to her task as he watched her, looking down upon her strawberry blonde coils and twists and the nape of her graceful neck. When she finished, she didn't step back. Her hands wandered to the embroidery on the luxurious garment, and she traced the swirls and colours with her fingertips quietly for a moment, before finally looking up at him. Her eyes held emotion that he hadn't expected to see. He didn't know what to say to her, so he stayed silent.

"Thank you, Henry," she said.

Impulsively, he took her chin in his hand, and kissed her sweetly on the lips. He wanted to stay, to take this moment further, but he also wanted to keep his promise to Francis. And there would be tomorrow. He had every intention of spending some quality time with his wife tomorrow.


	8. Chapter 8

_**AN:**_ __ _Thank you all so much for the reviews you've left me on this story! This is the last chapter, which means that finally I've actually finished one of my fanfics, haha! I have SO enjoyed writing this one, it was a lot of fun to put Catherine in such a favourable position, and I always love "fixing" Cathry as I love them so much. I'm glad that it has been enjoyed, and I'll turn my attention now to adding more chapters to my other stories and perhaps finishing another one?! ;) I hope the end of this story meets with your approval!_

 **Chapter Eight**

Henry was almost afraid to open his eyes the next morning when the drapes were pulled back once more, but he was relieved to find that nothing untoward had happened during his sleep – his normality and his rooms were just as they should be. He breathed in deeply, and got out of bed, ready to begin his day.

He was looking forward to breakfast with his Queen this morning. He had sent a messenger to her chambers to request the pleasure of her company the next morning, after his evening with their eldest son. He had enjoyed Francis's company. He shouldn't have felt surprised by this revelation, but somewhat to his shame, he did. Francis had all sorts of ideas and plans that Henry had no idea about – of course he didn't. How could he know what was in his son's head if he never asked him, never spent any time with him? He was interested in many things, some of which Henry shared an interest in too, and they had conversed with ease over their dinner for a couple of hours.

Afterwards, when he was getting ready for bed, he found that the thought of telling Catherine about it made him smile. So, he decided to have her come to his chambers for breakfast.

As usual, she was prompt, and Henry had only just finished dressing when she entered his chambers. She wore a soft velvet dress, and although her hair was pinned up, coiled beautifully on the back of her head, her attire was more relaxed than it usually was for matters of Court. It reminded him very much of the dress he had seen her wearing in his dream, when –

Henry blushed, averting his eyes from his wife for a moment, trying to think of something else. Thankfully, Catherine didn't appear to notice.

"An invitation to breakfast with my husband?" she remarked. "Whatever next?!"

Before he could collect himself and respond to her gentle teasing, the breakfast arrived, borne upon trays by three servants. It was then beautifully laid-out upon the small table, and they sat down to eat together, waiting until they had been served and left alone before talking.

Catherine broke open a bread roll, buttering it whilst watching Henry through narrowed eyes, before she finally spoke up.

"I must say, I appreciated your apology yesterday. And the kindness you've shown me since." She placed her knife down on her plate. "It's… unusual, for you. I wondered why." She bit into the bread, watching him closely as she chewed.

Henry had known she would want answers. Her suspicious nature would require it, and he understood this. It wouldn't be easy for her to trust him, considering how often he had let her down. But he wasn't sure how he could explain, or if he even wanted to share all the details. He finished his mouthful slowly, took a sip of his drink, and then cleared his throat.

"In the interest of proving my honest intentions… It's a bit embarrassing really." He shifted in his seat awkwardly, noticing the rise of one of Catherine's eyebrows as she watched him. "I had a dream."

"A dream." Catherine blinked, her eyebrows raised.

"Yes. Quite an unusual dream at that." He helped himself to the fruit in the dish between them. "It – it helped me to reprioritise."

"Yes, you've said that." Catherine appeared unimpressed by his explanation thus far. "How, exactly?"

Henry thought carefully about how to answer her question. He didn't want to reveal too much about the contents of his dream, but he wanted her to understand that he'd seen and felt what he had put her through, and the vividness of the dream had been enough to persuade him not to put her through it any longer.

"I realised that I haven't treated you with respect, in many different ways. Not for years now."

"In terms of my opinions on things?" she enquired.

"Yes. That, and the raising of our children." He saw her eyes flick away from him as she focused on her plate. "And our marriage."

Catherine paused with her fork halfway to her mouth.

"And I know I've accused you of being disrespectful towards me too," he continued, "but I have come to realise that it's not true."

Henry's words seemed to have humbled Catherine somewhat. "Well, I have certainly let you know about my displeasure in public, and that's hardly respectful."

Henry couldn't believe it! Catherine was offering him an olive branch! Even though he was the one who needed to apologise, she was looking for ways that she had done him wrong and calling them to his attention. He shook his head disbelievingly, impressed with his wife once again.

"Catherine. You have put up with more than enough to warrant a few public displays of anger, I should think."

Seeing the surprise and confusion in her eyes at his remark, he took her hand in his, so suddenly that she flinched a little.

"There's a meeting of the Privy Council this afternoon," he said softly. "I meant what I said yesterday. I want you to be there. You are the Queen of France, and more intelligent than any man in that room." He heard the catch in Catherine's breathing, and she flushed, pleased at his compliment. "Feel free to share your strong opinions, my dear," he teased. "I promise I will listen to them this time."

His Queen appeared speechless, so Henry decided to move the conversation to a more light-hearted subject.

"You'll never believe what I learned about Francis last night…" He smiled, enjoying seeing his wife relax as she sat back in her chair and listened to him talk about their firstborn.

/-/-/-/-/-/

As he walked the corridors, the candlelight flickering in the darkness of the late evening, Henry thought back on the day. The breakfast with Catherine, the conversation filled with her laughter (such a wonderful sound! He had forgotten…) about his meal with Francis the night before, and then the strange mix of feelings that had overcome him at the Privy Council meeting. He was trying to analyse them, to make sense of this new way of feeling towards his wife. Pride in her intelligence and her ability to outshine any and all of the men who advised the King, mixed with the odd surge of jealousy that she possibly outshone even himself when at her brightest. She was in her element, and she could strategize with the best of them. He saw the looks in their eyes – some disdainful, and others full of wonder at this woman – HIS wife, the mother of his children, his Queen. One or two of the men had a look that he recognised, subtle though it was. They saw her beauty and her fire, and they wanted her, he knew they did. After the meeting was over, and the men began to disperse, Catherine had her own duties to attend to. As she left the room, he had looked up. Her eyes were on him, as though he were the only person in the room. She looked radiant – happy and confident, and she smiled at him almost shyly, dipping her head a little, before leaving. Contentment flooded his heart and hope swelled under his ribcage. He felt as though he was a young man in love again, and still surprised by the speed of the change in his heart.

His thoughts occupied him so deeply that he barely noticed he had arrived at Catherine's chambers. Her guards kept their respectful stance, but one of them glanced at him questioningly. Henry supposed it had been quite some time since he last called on his wife late at night. He had bent down to her ear at the end of the formal dinner they had hosted that evening, covered by the noise around them, and asked her if he might come to her tonight. She had turned her face to his, her eyes wide, guarded but somehow hopeful. Her lips moved as if to speak, but then she had swallowed and simply nodded her response.

He knocked, and when he heard her voice, he went in, leaving the guards to ensure their privacy.

There stood Catherine, dressed in a soft gown, heart-stoppingly similar to the one that Emmanuelle had removed from her in his dream. She was just as beautiful too, with her hair loose down her back. Henry remembered how her face had looked as she tipped her head back with her eyes closed, succumbing to pleasure. He blinked, trying to clear his mind of the image. Even though it had been a dream, it had felt like a betrayal of trust over something that he should never have seen. And it wasn't even real, though it had felt like it at the time. His _real_ wife was standing before him in her _real_ chambers. Those images in his mind were not really Catherine. He couldn't help but wonder if there was truth to it though – whether she was really like that under the surface.

She walked over to him and reached up to touch his face. Raising herself up on tiptoe, she kissed him softly – once, then twice on the lips. He pulled back to look at her, and she dipped her head to begin removing his shirt, but not before he saw the hesitation in her eyes. It stung him to see it, but what did she really have to hope for? He all but told her the other day that there was little point sleeping with her now that they had enough children. What was in it for her? He understood. She had to stay guarded. Memories of his helplessness in his dream gave him a stab of guilt once more, at the thought of what he had put her through. He took hold of her shoulders, leaning her back enough so that she looked up at him.

"Catherine, I don't want there to be any awkwardness…"

She nodded. "It's alright, Henry."

"No, it's not, my love." She caught her breath a little when he said that. He hadn't thought about it. The term of endearment had flowed with genuine affection, but he hadn't talked to her in that way in many, many years. "I have been a terrible husband to you. My dream – I realised… I've been so selfish, and lost sight of what my priorities should have been. I'm so sorry." He hung his head. "I know that just saying this now won't convince you that something has changed for me, I know it will take time, and perhaps you feel it's too late, and you would rather not - " Her soft fingertips pressed against his lips, halting his speech.

"Henry," she whispered.

He looked up at her. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes brimming with tears, but hope lifted him when he saw how they shone. Not just with tears, but with love. And she smiled as she looked at him, the sweetest smile.

"You are so beautiful," murmured Henry, curling his fingers around the small hand against his lips, and holding it there. He kissed her fingertips while she steadied herself. She took a deep breath and when she blinked, the gathered tears fell down her cheeks, and she wiped them quickly with the back of her free hand.

"I don't want you to feel as though you are doing your _duty_ ," he admitted. "But I understand why it would feel that way."

"Henry," she said again, sounding a little stronger. "I have never felt like I am doing my duty. You are my husband. Whatever else has happened between us, I take you into my bed because I love you, and that time with you belongs to me."

Henry felt crushed by Catherine's confession. He had no idea. How could he have known? And yet how could he have acted like he did? No wonder she kept him at arm's length, hardening herself for protection. He found the courage to look her in the eye.

"How can you trust me now, like this? After everything…"

Catherine stepped back a pace, taking his hands in her own. She straightened her shoulders and smiled.

"Because my ladies told me yesterday how you sent Diane away to Anet, without any particular thought of her return. I was also told of Kenna's little tantrum to Lola in the gardens, after you put an end to that dalliance." She lifted her chin, a slight smugness washing over her pleased expression. "I didn't take it to heart at the time, but the way you've behaved since then… Spending time with Francis, showing me respect and kindness – especially in front of the Privy Council. I saw that, for once, it wasn't just empty words."

She let go of his hands, stepping in close again and placing her palms against his chest. "Something _is_ different, Henry, isn't it? I can tell." She let her fingertips stroke his skin through the gap in his shirt, upwards, over his throat. The fire in him began to build, and he swallowed. "I can't understand the difference a dream can make in this way," she continued, "but I'm grateful for it."

Henry seized her in his strong arms, suddenly, holding her possessively, lovingly. He whispered in her ear, harsh with emotion, "I fell in love with you, all those years ago. You know that, don't you?" She nodded against his chest. "I simply lost track. I forgot that I was in love, that my heart belonged to you. I remember now."

She pulled back from his grasp, enough to bring her lips to his, and she kissed him urgently, hungrily. Henry could taste her tears on her lips as he deepened their kiss, and he remembered her need and her passion in his dream.

They made love with as much fervour and desire as they ever had before, but this time Henry strove to meet her needs, seeing her as he had in his dream. This time, she was his. He didn't have to look on while she sought pleasure at the hands of others. This time she wasn't shunning him, she was seeking him. He felt as though it was a privilege, and as though he couldn't get enough of his wife, after all these years putting her aside. She more than satisfied him, and he sought to do the same for her.

Afterwards, as they lay against each other in Catherine's bed, sweaty and untidy but contented, Henry played with a lock of her hair, wrapping the curls around his finger and unwrapping them again.

"I rather like the new you…" she teased him in a sultry voice.

"And I, you!" Henry returned her humour, "I didn't know you had such a fiery side to love-making!" She chuckled, but he spoke again, more seriously. "I mean it, Catherine. You – you have more of a passionate nature than I realised."

She leaned up on her elbow to look at him. "And was that in your dream as well?" she enquired, with laughter in her voice. Henry didn't dare to answer her. He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips for a kiss.

"Catherine," he pondered suggestively, "What do you think of a woman to run the infirmary? Alongside Nostradamus of course." A slow smile spread across his face. "I wonder if we might look for a seer named Emmanuelle. I've heard good things about her work…"

Well. It couldn't hurt, could it?


End file.
